World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Chen Feng looked at him, then at the young people in the distance who had been eliminated because they were illiterate. He suddenly realized something: in this era, education itself was a privilege. Those who could attend middle school were either from wealthy families or exceptionally gifted. And these people usually wouldn't join the army, much less immigrate to the desert to make a living.

How are your eyesight?

"Report! 1.5! Passed the military physical examination!"

Chen Feng thought for a moment: "Go, take the cultural exam. If you pass, you can stay."

"Thank you, Commander!" Zhou Afu saluted excitedly and ran towards the tent.

Two hours later, the preliminary results came out.

Of the 320 candidates, only 37 passed the written exam and vision test. Among them, only four reached the "high school physics level." Of these four, two were temporarily deferred by Chen Feng due to their weaker physical condition.

Holding the list, Zhao Tianxiang whispered to Chen Feng, "Mr. Chen, this foundation... is too weak. According to the manual you provided, to understand the basics of aerodynamics, one needs at least a high school level. These people can't even recite Newton's three laws of motion."

"Then we'll start from the beginning," Chen Feng gritted his teeth. "We'll start with literacy, arithmetic, and the most basic physics. Eight hours a day, and no sleeping until you've learned it."

"How long will that take...?"

"I'll teach them no matter how long it takes," Chen Feng said. "Mr. Zhao, you're currently the only person in our group who understands aviation. I need you to develop a crash course program. In three months, I want them to be able to at least understand the basic principles of an aircraft."

Zhao Tianxiang smiled wryly: "Three months... Mr. Chen, I studied mechanical engineering in England for four years. Although aviation is only a branch, but—"

"We don't have four years," Chen Feng interrupted him, "not even a year. European planes may be rudimentary, but they're improving every day. We have to race against time."

He looked at the thirty-seven people who had passed the preliminary selection. They stood in the cold wind, unaware of what they were about to face.

"Assemble!" Chen Feng shouted.

The thirty-seven people quickly lined up. Chen Feng walked to the front of the line and looked at them one by one. Most of them were young people around twenty years old, some were Chinese, and there were even two Arab faces—they were descendants of the tribe recommended by Elder Salman, who had studied at the school in Lanfang and could speak Chinese.

"From today onwards, you are the first batch of trainees in Project Manhattan." Chen Feng's voice echoed across the training ground. "From now on, you will undergo the most rigorous training, learn the most difficult knowledge, and endure the greatest pressure. You can quit at any time during this process. Those who stay may be injured, or even die."

He paused for a moment, letting his words settle.

"Now, those who want to back out, take a step forward."

No one moved.

"Okay." Chen Feng nodded. "Then remember this: from this moment on, your lives do not belong to yourselves, nor to your families, but to the sky of Lanfang. Dismissed! A car will take you to the base in one hour."

After the team disbanded, Chen Feng called Zhou Afu aside.

"You're good with the machine gun; the army needs you. Are you really sure?"

Zhou Afu straightened his back: "Reporting to the President! I've made up my mind! My mother said that following the President will lead to a bright future! Flying airplanes... although I don't know what that is, it's definitely better than firing a machine gun!"

Chen Feng looked into the light in his eyes—a light of pure trust and longing. He suddenly felt the burden on his shoulders grow even heavier.

"Go ahead. Study hard."

"yes!"

Three days later, deep in the inland desert.

This place is 200 kilometers from Dubai, surrounded by nothing but sand dunes. But miraculously, a cluster of buildings has appeared in this desolate area: a dozen rows of simple brick houses, a large shed made of canvas, and two rammed dirt roads—that was an airstrip, although there is nothing on it now.

The base is codenamed "Oasis" and is officially known as the "Geological Exploration and Meteorological Research Station".

Chen Feng stood in the so-called "hangar"—which was actually just a large shed—looking at the pile of materials in front of him with a worried expression.

The timber was fir wood transported from Fujian, and the requirement was that it be "light and strong," but the quality of the timber that actually arrived varied greatly. The canvas, on the other hand, was of good quality; it was waterproof canvas made in England, originally intended for making tents. The engine… the engine was a big problem.

"This is a six-cylinder car engine we bought from Germany," Zhao Tianxiang said, pointing to a heavy lump of iron. "It's from Daimler, with a maximum power of 45 horsepower. We disassembled three of them and tried to piece together a usable one."

"45 horsepower..." Chen Feng shook his head. "Too weak. It needs at least 80 horsepower to barely take off."

"That will have to wait. We have already inquired about prices from France and the UK, but there are not many companies in Europe that can manufacture aircraft engines, and they are ridiculously expensive, costing five thousand pounds per unit, and they also require a 'certificate of end use'."

Chen Feng knew this problem was unsolvable for the time being. He turned to another problem: the blueprints.

In one corner of the shed, a dozen or so engineers sat around a long table, on which lay the blueprints for the F4F "Wildcat". These people were handpicked by Liu Yongfu; they were all top technicians from various factories, some skilled in sheet metal, some proficient in welding, and some with an encyclopedic knowledge of transmission mechanisms.

But at this moment, everyone looked completely bewildered.

"Engineer Chen." The speaker was an older fitter in his forties, surnamed Ma, whom everyone called Master Ma. "These blueprints of yours... we can't understand them."

"What do you not understand?"

"I don't understand anything here," Master Ma said honestly. "The materials listed here, like '2024 aluminum alloy' and '4130 chromium-molybdenum steel,' I've never even heard of them. And this structure, it's all curves, no right angles. We usually make square machine parts, this..."

"And then there's the tolerance," another, younger engineer added. "It needs to be ±0.1 millimeters. Engineer Chen, even our best machine tools can only achieve a machining accuracy of around 0.5 millimeters. Doing it by hand? It's simply impossible."

Chen Feng took a deep breath. He knew these problems would arise, but when faced with them in reality, he still felt a sense of powerlessness.

"Regarding the materials, we'll use alternatives first." He picked up a piece of chalk and wrote on a blackboard next to him, "If we don't have aluminum alloy, we'll use spruce wood for the frame and cover it with canvas. If we don't have high-strength steel, we'll use ordinary steel and thicken it. The weight will increase and the strength will decrease, but at least we can make it."

"That performance..."

"I know the performance will be very poor," Chen Feng said. "But the first thing we need to solve is the problem of 'having it or not.' Once we have it, we can then solve the problem of 'how good it is.'"

He walked to the table and pointed to a drawing of an aircraft wing structure.

"Master Ma, look here. The wing isn't a flat plate; it has a convex upper surface and a flat lower surface. This is called an airfoil, and it's key to generating lift. Can you figure out how to carve the wood into this shape?"

Master Ma looked closely for a long time, then gestured with his hands: "I can peel... but with so many, it's difficult to make each one the same."

"Then let's make a mold," Chen Feng said. "First, make a standard one, and then use it as a template to make the rest. The margin of error can be a little larger, but it can't be too big."

"I'll give it a try."